


Strangers

by VPT



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, will add more as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-09 14:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16451690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VPT/pseuds/VPT
Summary: Cullen’s nights were haunted with guilts and old painful memories. But he knew where he was as the Commander of the Inquisition, advisor to Inquisitor Trevelyan. Until the Inquisitor’s brother walked in and suddenly, Cullen didn’t know where he was anymore when he discovered what he left back at Kinloch Hold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not beta, so every errors and faults are on me. English is also not my first language so I would very appreciate it if you could point out any grammatical error.

Winter was terrible in Skyhold. Cullen noted as he pulled the fur around his neck closer to keep warm. He was constantly cold these days, the lyrium withdrawal left his blood cold and his bones ache. The headache was so familiar nowadays, he hardly remembered when his mind was clear. Clear of demons, of shame that plagued him anytime he looked at the Inquisitor. But at least he welcomed the pain. It kept him grounded. And the jar of salves, the cat, the small stool that had a bit of dried blood on it was a treasure to him on his harder night. 

Maker, but Inquisitor Trevelyan was beautiful. And his heart had ached for her since the moment he saw her on the mountain. And his infatuation only grew when she kept bouncing excitedly around him on the training ground back in Haven. All the months there, and as if she had brought warmth to his cold body. Then it ran cold again when the attack happened. 

She almost died. Because of him. Because of the failure he was, unable to protect her and the others. So many died, because of him. And their screams added to the pile of things that haunted his nights. 

And to think she worried for his life, that she was glad he made it out alive. Not whole, but alive. He wasn’t worthy of her affection let alone her attention. 

He was just a shell left of only broken faith and terrors. 

And she was a mage. 

He hated himself for thinking of her in that perverse way. Hated himself wanting to taste her lips, her touch, her love. 

What he had done back in Kirkwall, what he had said, what he had let happened because he had truly believed back then that they had all deserved it. 

He has been a monster, a coward, still was. And once she found out, Cullen would be brand as what he was. She would look at him with disgust. And that, he was worthy of. 

Cullen had been avoiding her and it broke his heart every times the Inquisitor looked at him and pleaded him to tell her what was wrong. Cullen had tried his best. He had. But that still didn’t stop Elise from bearing sadness and confusion in her eyes each times he saw her in the war room. So Cullen’s memories of her every since they came to Skyhold had always been just that. A reminder of what a terrible human being he was. 

The cat was practically brutal, and nowadays, he couldn’t walk straight without broken out sweat when the clothes rub on his self-inflected wounds. 

This, or going back to Lyrium to stop everything. He had thought that. Had almost tried. But thank the stars for all those scouts running to his quarters. They were all Leliana’s. 

Maybe Cassandra wasn’t the only one. 

He didn’t think anything in Skyhold could get past the eyes of their spymaster. 

It brought him a new change of air when the Inquisitor smiled and got all excited preparing Skyhold with Josephine. The decor, dinner, everything had to be perfect and that had the Inquisitor running around all day. They couldn’t blame her. 

The new Teyrn of Otswick, Viscount of Kirkwall, Marquis de Lacroix came. Impressive titles for a man senior only a few years to Cullen. And the brother Elise hadn’t met since she had been sent to the Circle. Another thought that quenched his heart in shame. 

Teyrn Trevelyan came with the promise of an army to add to the already stretched thin of the Inquisition. And Cullen had been worried, because according to Leliana’s reports, the man was a cold and calculating man. He had already succeeded in seizing Kirkwall in his hand. And even Sebastian had backed out from his promise to attack the city. (Cullen wondered if Aveline was doing okay with the changes. He should write soon.)

But the way Elise had been describing him with awe in her voice had painted him in a completely different light. He was courageous, he was proud, he was kind. Cullen had thought back then, perhaps he was indeed a honorable sort deep down. 

But of course, that was just wishful thinking. 

“Sister dearest,” He had said, voice calm and detached of any emotion. “We haven’t met in almost twenty years. What made you think I would gladly give you my army for nothing in return?” 

The whole table had been silent then, waiting for the man to wave it off as a joke. Or perhaps that was what the Inquisitor had been wishing. Her companions must have seen it coming. 

“Just because we share the same blood of a man?” He had said it, staring straight at Elise’s bewildered eyes and Cullen had been furious when her lips quivered as she searched for something, anything to indicate that her half-brother was only joking. He wanted to strangle that arrogant and cruel man for giving Elise that look. The look that he had given her when he said he couldn’t return her feelings. 

If not for Josephine and Leliana, he might have. Dorian might have as well from the look of it. Probably Sera too. 

-

Cullen’s mouth twitched when he spotted the Teyrn quietly sitting where Cullen and Dorian usually had their match of chess. His raven hair was no long being kept in place by careful grooming like in the afternoon anymore. And if Cullen could concentrate past his headache, he would be able to imagine the way those beautiful golden eyes sizing him up and down. 

He had planned to turn away and left the man alone, wanting nothing to do with him when Trevelyan lifted his head, golden eyes shone under the moon like a cat. And if not for the ten years of age apart from him and his sister, one would think they were twins. 

And there was something in the Teyrn’s eyes that made Cullen’s foot planted to the ground. And the air was too thick and heavy around him as Trevelyan opened his mouth. “Commander.” He greeted, simple and polite, still void of any emotion. His hand still holding the white queen in midair. Cullen realized the man must have been playing chess by himself. With his set. 

Sensing the commander’s attention on the chess board, Trevelyan put the chest piece in its planned position. A sacrifice. “My apologies, I saw the board lying around and got a bit carried away.” He said and moved to rearrange the pieces, and maybe it was because how the match was being played that Cullen protested. Just maybe. 

“Please, I-I would like to see how it plays out.” And Cullen was impressed. If he was at the other side of the board, he might not have much a chance of winning. 

Trevelyan gave him a small smile and gestured to the seat in front of him, “It has been awhile since I had had an audience.” 

Cullen swallowed and surprised himself when his legs moved on its own accord to the offered seat. Once he was seated, Trevelyan returned his attention to the board and silence fell upon them. 

Soon, the distraction from the chess board soothed away his headache and Cullen didn’t realize when his hand had moved on its own, dancing around the board with the pieces. And Trevelyan let him. 

Watching a man playing chess could tell a lot about him. Trevelyan moved his pieces with surety, never one shown emotion, it was like the man was playing a dangerous game of Wicked Grace. And that was the thing, Trevelyan seemed to have a dark delight in courting danger. His pieces were put in various dangerous positions that could put him in a disadvantage. But they were just decoys, and while his opponent busying themselves with catching those decoys, they fell into his endless traps and pitfalls. 

Cullen’s tactic were a complete opposite of him. They were carefully planned, straightforward, avoiding any moves that could put him in danger. He valued his pieces and while sacrifies were necessary, it was always last resort for him. 

Maybe that was why he had failed. Because he didn’t dare to take risks, because he took too much time to think and not act. Maybe if he had been like the Teyrn, maybe if he was there instead of Cullen, Haven wouldn’t have fall. 

“Stay in the moment, Commander.” Trevelyan hadn’t even bother to lift his eyes from the board but instead his gloved hand were on Cullen’s shaking one, stilling him and pulling him back to reality. 

“My apologies, your lordship.” Cullen said and Trevelyan nodded, but his hand stayed. And Cullen debated wether or not he should say something about it. 

But Cullen had thought, this hand would be perfect for the cat. Strong arm putting strength in it. He would feel the pain for days. He awkwardly pulled out in the end. 

Trevelyan didn’t say anything but the corner of his lips lifted in amusement and Cullen felt his cheeks heated in the cool air. 

Mistakes were made, nothing he could do about that now, Cullen thought as he watched the game ended. Trevelyan used a pawn. And he could picture it, a King died at the sword of a soldier and history shall paint him as another embarrassing failure, retelling his worst hours in short, casual sentence. And all the glory would lay in the hand of his enemy, not at that soldier who just followed orders. 

Trevelyan finally looked at him, silently watching his face and Cullen felt breathless under the weight of his gaze. 

“Whatever you think I might have done that could save Haven, Commander,” Trevelyan started, voice even but the deep and low octave of his voice made Cullen gulped down only to feel uncomfortable at the dryness of his mouth. “You are wrong.” And Cullen opened his mouth. He had expected arrogance words, jabbing at his failure. He had expected the man to be cruel and Cullen would be outright insulted and Cullen would endure it because Cullen deserved it. Stupid, pathetic Cullen. 

“Should I drop a smite and check if you are a mage or a demon?” Cullen jokingly said what he assumed a normal human being would say and he would like to state that his voice didn’t break. 

“But you don’t know if you can anymore, aren’t you?” 

“Pardon?” There was it again. The fear of being found out. It happened with Leliana’s subtle furrowed brows, or that small ache of eyebrow from the Bull. 

Trevelyan rested his back in his chair, his legs crossed and his posture radiated power and control that made Cullen unconsciously straightened his back. “The Trevelyan has close ties with the Chantry. Every young child that is not planned as an heir would be promised to the Order. Meaning, I don’t need a spymaster to know you are on withdrawal.” 

Cullen stiffened, his knuckles white as he held tight onto the armrests. He could already feel cold sweat dampened his tunic, burning his wounds and the headache fading back, making itself known. 

When Cullen didn’t respond, Trevelyan leaned forward, arranging the chess board again. “We are all in difficult time, Commander,” Trevelyan said, so casual he could have been talking about the weather. But Cullen knew better. “The Chantry fails in resolving the conflict between mages and templars, there is a hole in the sky spitting demons, and the Sunburst Throne is still empty.” Every pieces were in position except for the defeated king. “All eyes in Thedas are now upon the Inquisition, as you well know. So if I were to provide your army with my troops, that would make me your ally. I would be known to have the support of a powerful, Maker-willing organization.” He paused for effect and Cullen swallowed. “Or, I could be branded as heretic. My power would be stripped from me in no time, I would be murdered in my sleep.” Trevelyan picked up the white Knight, Cullen’s Knight and made a show of examining it and Cullen could manage to breath a bit when Trevelyan’s heavy gaze lifted from him. 

“Divine Justinia authorized for...” Cullen said, rolling the words on his tongue when Trevelyan gave him a look that said he had already heard this speech. Cullen swallowed, his hand moved for the hilt of his sword, which of course, wasn’t there. “We will do good, your lordship. The Inquisition has already successfully stopped Corypheus’ plan in taking control of the rebel mages, and the rift is no longer expanding.”

“But you lost the Templar in this so-called Corypheus’ clutch. That alone, has already put you in bad graces with the Chantry.” Trevelyan said. 

“With all due respect, your lordship, I don’t give a damn about what those clerks think.” He gritted his teeth. The withdrawal was making his irritation grow, Cullen knew that. “We are out here, risking our life everyday to save Thedas while they cozy up behind high walls and pretty silk and they think they can judge us? Without us,” Elise appeared against before his eyes, staring down Corypheus and his heart clenched, “Without Inquisitor Trevelyan, none of them would even be breathing.” 

To his surprise however, Trevelyan nodded and pushed himself off the chair. “Thank you, Commander.” The man seemed to pause for a moment too long as he arranged his words. “If you were to succeed in your feat, your Inquisition shall have immense power. And should you fail, well, there would be no soil left for us to walk.” 

“Does that mean..?” Cullen asked, unsure at the man’s change of heart. 

“Nothing comes without a price, Commander. My aid demands a favor.” Trevelyan’s sudden fox like grin worried Cullen. “You speak of the Inquisition with such strong faith. It makes me wonder, would you do anything for it?” 

Cullen gulped, he knew he was walking in a trap but he couldn’t do anything. He was already falling in it. “I will.” 

For the Inquisition. For Inquisitor Trevelyan. 

-

 

Cullen could feel waves of anxiety washing over him, wishing to drown him. But he held his ground, stood there like a statue with its eyes glued to the ground. 

Leliana’s and Josephine’s stares were heavy on him. Were they judging him for his choice? Was there pity in their eyes? Or disgust? Cullen knew the latest was impossible but a part of him insisted upon it. Or maybe it was just him being disgusted by himself. 

“Cullen...” Josephine was the first to break the silence and Cullen felt like someone just reached their hand down to pull him up from the filthy hole he was bathing himself in. 

“Please...” He said, ignoring the shaking edge of his voice. “The Inquisitor, she must not know.” 

“There must be some other way!” Josephine hurriedly added, her voice wasn’t steady either. “I can... I can somehow persuade the Teyrn to-“

“She will not know.” Leliana cut her friend off, her voice calm and quiet like it has always been and it brought Cullen a sense of security. 

He closed his eyes, thankful for his friends and nodded. “Thank you. I... I will inform the Teyrn personally to go through the details of his troops.”

Josephine opened her mouth, wanting to protest but Leliana’s hand was on her shoulder, stopping her and guiding her to the heavy wooden door. “Very well. Then we shall leave you to your duties.” She said as a goodbye and opened the door, when Josephine was carefully pushed outside, Leliana whispered to the wind. “Come to us whenever you need. Do not shut us out Cullen.” Enough so that her words would reach his ears. 

-

 

He found Trevelyan at the chess board again, busying himself with papers rather than chess pieces this time around. 

Cullen’s feet suddenly got heavier, like there was a giant rock chained to him, holding him back. Nerves were getting to him again. He had been reminding himself, from sunrise to sunset, that he was not selling himself out, he was performing his duties, filling the empty barracks with more soldiers. Well-trained soldiers, not pilgrims and farmers. 

“Your Spymaster has her crows on top of the library, you know that?” Trevelyan said, eyes still on his papers. 

Cullen jumped at the suddenness of Trevelyan’s words. Steeling himself, the Commander resumed his pace, stopped when he was in front of the Teyrn. “We didn’t have much choice on the matter. She wasn’t really up for constructive criticism. I can arrange...”

Trevelyan nodded his head, and Cullen could catch that small lift of his lips. “It’s fine. I’m not exactly welcomed amongst your friends. Staying in your quarters would be enough.”

Cullen widened his eyes in surprise and lifted his head to stare directly into those golden orbs. But then he realized something. The Teyrn wanted to be in his quarters, of course. Cullen swallowed hard. But he should be thankful, if it were to be him moving to Trevelyan’s, eyes would be on him, and Maker knew how fast gossips spread around here. 

“Right...” Cullen managed, suddenly aware of how dry his throat had become. “I’ll... I’ll arrange for your staying at my quarters.” 

Trevelyan lifted his eyebrow in amusement for a brief second, “Thank you, Commander.” He nodded, stood up and picked the reports sprawled over the table. “I will have my personal belongings move to your quarters tomorrow morning. For now, I will make do with what you have.” 

The small trip to his tower wasn’t pleasant for Cullen, the fear of someone seeing them, of pointing fingers and whispered words. But luckily aside from the patrolling guards focusing on their duties, no one took a notice at him. 

Standing in front of his door, a sense of alacrity rose in his chest, bumping his heart to full speed that he felt dizzy when he pushed the door. It gave a creak and the cold, dark room greeted them. So quiet aside from the wind howling, Trevelyan’s slow and calm breath behind him seemed so clear, so close. 

“You have a hole in your bedroom, you know that?” Trevelyan commented, amusement dripped from his voice as he made a round in the closed quarters. He breathed in deep as he took off his royal blue coat, laying them on the bed. Cullen swallowed as he realized the intimacy of the act. “Maybe that is why I can sense little of the lyrium in here?” Trevelyan turned around, watching the Commander who stood by the leg of the bed, sweating and flushing. 

Cullen lifted his head, realized that Trevelyan was waiting for a response, a sense of deja vu washed over him as he cleared his throat. “I... you know why.” 

Yes, Trevelyan knew why. How easy the man broke out in sweat, how often the line between his eyebrows creased in, how his hands couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “Come here.” Trevelyan beckoned and Cullen followed, allowing the moonlight to shone on his face. Exposing him to the Teyrn. “Kiss me.” 

Cullen abruptly lifted his head and immediately regretted it. Headache pushed in, and dizziness swayed him on his feet. But strong arm wrapped around his waist, hoisting him up. Cullen could smell the lyrium from afar and it had made him itch. But this close to that authoritative breath, it was toxic. Like a leash reminding him that he could never get out, that the damages were already done. But the warmth, something he hadn’t felt for so long. A body closed to him, a breath running down his face, filling his nostrils, golden eyes so bright it outshone the moon. Henry Trevelyan was beautiful. Not in the innocent, pure way Elise was, but in a raw and wild way. A hypnotize way. Cullen was being hypnotized. 

He needed the cat. 

“Kiss me, Cullen.” Strong, deep baritone broke out again, the sound of his name ringing in the quiet night sending shivers down his spine. And Cullen had already closing in before he knew it. Warm lips against his cold one, tasting delicious with some expensive Orlesian wine, intoxicating with a distant taste of lyrium that made Cullen hungrily lapped against it. 

Trevelyan chuckled at Cullen’s clumsy kissing, arms pulling him closer, he took the control, driving his tongue inside, licking every corners, tasting the sweet surprised gasp that Cullen let out. 

Cullen reached up, grabbing at Trevelyan’s forearms, feeling his strength, his breath being sucked out. And his mind felt like it was melting, headache temporarily forgotten, coldness dissipated. 

Only the wanton need for warmth. And pain. Maybe if Trevelyan was pleased enough, he could ask for it. Ask for the man to take the cat and punish him. 

When they broke apart, pulling a shining silver string indicated the intimate act they just committed, Cullen felt himself unable to stand on his feet. But Trevelyan’s arms were still around him, still holding him close. It was nothing like what he had imagined a kiss would be. And his breath couldn’t even seem to calm down, he felt like he was hyperventilating. 

Trevelyan leaned in close, lips on his ear lobe and Cullen shivered, his hands unconsciously clung harder onto the man strong arms. Maker’s breath, it would be perfect. 

“Where did you keep it?” Whispered words breathed in his ear. Cullen was confused for a moment there, turning his head slightly to look at the man. “I can see dried blood here, Cullen.”

Cullen froze up, his knees trembling as he looked at Trevelyan with horror. Then he realized they were so close to the bed, where straight line of blood decorated the sheet where the blanket had slipped off, menacingly glaring at him. He had forgotten that some nights he went to sleep without treating the wounds. 

Trevelyan must have caught a glimpse of it when he threw his coat on the bed, making the blanket shifted. 

“Tell me, Cullen.” He said again, kisses pressed to the side of his face. “Where do you keep the cat?” 

Cullen swallowed hard, “Un-under the bed.” His voice was shaking, forming words seemed to be a hard task at the moment. No one had discovered this side of him yet. Not Leliana, not Bull, not Cassandra. Just Samson. 

Cullen remembered when he first came to Kirkwall. So shaken up and scared. He had known then he was beyond repair. Like a broken vase, too many pieces to glued it back together. 

And then Samson had introduced him to it, guided him through the process of punishing himself. How to swing it so it could hurt the most, where to hit so it would hurt for days. 

When Samson was discharged, it was one of the hardest time for Cullen. There was no one there to punish him, to monitor him. And the constant fear that Samson would come back, using that secret to get a hold of him. Or that one day he would walk in the barrack and the recruits would be laughing at the desperate, broken Knight-captain who begged other to hit him harder. 

But Samson didn’t. And when he had been recruited back, Cullen felt like he had had a friend who he could confide in. Then red lyrium happened. 

Cullen broke out of his initial shock when the cold hit him as Trevelyan moved away. “Show me your wounds.” Tension coiled through him at the command. He nodded slowly than began to peel away layer by layer. Trevelyan’s gaze never left him and Cullen felt embarrassment burn through him, he must be shaking so bad now that pulling away the strings on his shirt took great effort. 

He heard a subtle suck of breath when he showed Trevelyan his tattered back. Cool wind breeze through combined with the knowledge of Trevelyan’s focus on the wounds made him broke out in cold sweat. 

No one had seen it, aside from Samson. Cullen had made sure of it. Even bathing in the middle of the cold night when everybody else had gone to sleep and thanks the Maker that he didn’t catch a pneumonia. 

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen felt bitterness rise in his chest. He squared his shoulder, salvaged what was left of his dignity as he waited for the disgust on Trevelyan’s face, for a thrown of his clothes at him, for Trevelyan to demand him hide away his ugly body. But none of them ever came. Cullen almost jumped when he felt warmth lips pressed on his wounded back, trailing up his spine until they stopped at his nape. “You are beautiful.”

“Wh-what?” Cullen couldn’t believe in his ears, he tried to turn back but Trevelyan already held him tight in his arms. “Your Lordship?” It felt weird saying that when they were this intimate. When his skin were being caress by calloused palms. 

“Don’t act like that.” He heard Trevelyan whispered behind him, his voice small and desperate. “Don’t act like you don’t even know me. It hurts.” The words went smaller and smaller, until it was only a ghost against his skin. “It hurts, Cullen.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It hurts, Cullen.” Henry said, matter of factly. Like he wasn’t the one sitting on a bed in a rundown tavern with his chest bared and a big gnash running down his left arm. 

“That would be because you were foolish.” Cullen grumbled from where he was treating the wound, and to be honest, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. This would leave an ugly scar. But stubborn Henry wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. “Maker, who would jump right in front of a swinging sword like that?” Cullen shook his head, his movement intentionally harder than it needed. 

“It would have hit you.” Henry’s brows furrowed, from the harsh treatment or from the thought of Cullen might be injured, no one knew. But Cullen softened his movements nonetheless. 

“That is why I have armor on, but you...” Cullen sighed, looking at the tattered royal blue robe casted carelessly on the dirty floor. “That could have been more then just a slash on the arm.” Cullen’s voice trembled a bit, unnerved at the idea of losing this man. 

Henry regarded him for a few seconds before closing in, fingers locked in golden hair and pressed a tender kiss to Cullen’s sweat dampened forehead. Ferelden was too hot in this weather. The young Templar’s inside melted with the warmth gesture. “It’s alright. The Maker has it all planned out.” 

-

“-I don’t know you.” Cullen answered in shock, already trying to break free from the tight grip only to be stumble forward when the grip suddenly loosened at his words. The Commander whipped around to face the other man, slightly regretting his sudden move as the headache making itself known. 

“You don’t know me.” Trevelyan repeated. Cullen’s heart constricted at the way Trevelyan had said it. Constricted like it had when Trevelyan had touched him for the first time, when Trevelyan whispered his name with so much emotion behind that perhaps Cullen was too scared to identify them. 

And now, watching that wounded look in Trevelyan’s golden orbs, Cullen wanted to reach out, to kiss the sadness away. And he did, strange feelings surged up him. Not strange, familiar, Cullen corrected himself. It was like when he swung his sword, held his shield. All muscle memories. 

But Trevelyan stepped away, his eyelids lowered, hiding away the color in his eyes. 

Cullen swallowed, digging his mind to look for him. To look for this man who held such a strong presence to him. How could he forget such a man? How could he? 

The headache was throbbing so loudly now he couldn’t hear anything else, the moonlight didn’t seem to be bright enough anymore. 

“I can’t-“ Cullen breathed out. “I can’t remember you.” He blinked, realizing he was sitting on the bed, Trevelyan kneeling in front of him, worry decorated his handsome features. 

-

The first time Cullen saw Elise Trevelyan, his heart made a sudden jump that he almost dropped his sword. But then it didn’t feel strange. It felt like a natural reaction. Like it was supposed to be. But at the same time wasn’t. It should have feel strange. 

Ten years ago, Henry Trevelyan would have looked the same. 

-

Cullen woke up the next morning when the sun became too much of an irritation for him to continue to sleep. He even felt too warm for the first time since he came to Skyhold. 

The blanket seemed to be heavier today too. 

Cullen tried to move under the heavyweight when he realized there was something wrong. 

The heat was radiating from another body, the extra weight came from the same source too. He tried to turn his head until he saw Trevelyan’s face close up to him. Despite the even breathing indicated that the man was in deep slumber, there were still dark circles decorated his pale skin. He didn’t sleep too well, or rather, he didn’t sleep at all until morning came. 

Cullen watched the man sleep for a bit, enjoying the calm and peaceful air around him. It was so different from the almost suffocating atmosphere last night. 

Last night...

Cullen reached up to lightly touch Trevelyan’s sharp cheekbone, always warm despite the cold air outside. “Everything seems so familiar and strange at the same time.” Cullen whispered, his heart felt heavier as seconds went by. “Who are you?”

-

Cullen wasn’t really keen on the idea of leaving Trevelyan alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake the man up. He also couldn’t sit there and wait either, he had overslept. Cullen watched the sun above his head, it must be noon now. 

“I didn’t know you have it in you, truly.” Dorian commented when Cullen was heading to the kitchen, grabbing something for him and Trevelyan. “You overslept my dear Commander! I feel like we should make this a special day!” Cullen blushed at Dorian’s teasing words. He had received surprise glances from Cassandra and the Inquisitor’s companions but Dorian was the first to come up to tease him about it. Probably because he ran away the moment he saw Varric and Sera. Maker knew they wouldn’t let this die down. Dorian though, sneaky mage. 

“Please don’t.” Cullen sighed, speeding up his movements to get away as soon as possible. He needed to deal with the pile of reports Jim had left at his door, under a heavy rock so the papers wouldn’t scatter away in the wind. And after that, he needed to find Leliana. She should know something about Trevelyan. Maybe then he would be able to figure out where and how they met. Or perhaps... 

Was Trevelyan just toying with his mind? 

The notion of somebody doing that to him again brought Cullen back to Kinloch Hold, back to the Gallows. It made him sick and scared. Horrified of the feeling of waking up and see the blood and the suffering his hands had made. Back at Kinloch Hold, it wasn’t real, telling himself that made him feel better. As better as it could get. But Kirkwall wasn’t the same. Lifeless eyer flashed by his mind again. Alive but not quite. And he had allowed it happened to so many people, the people that he should be protecting. 

“You sass, you oversleep.” Dorian’s voice break him out of his train of thoughts and Cullen realized he had been poking at an empty pot. “And now you daydream. My, our Commander is a chock full of surprises isn’t he?” 

Cullen sighed and moved to another pot, the soup was cold but at least there was still some left. “Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Better than teasing you about your newfound laziness?” Dorian faked a gasp. “Perish the thought.” Cullen rolled his eyes and earned a chuckle from the mage. “I heard that our guest has agreed to provide the Inquisition with his troops, demanded only in return to be able to oversee his troops here but wouldn’t overlap with your authority.” Cullen’s movement halt for a mere second before resumed. It could go unnoticed or it could not, despite on Dorian’s mood of the day, his eyes could be quite sharp. “An awfully good deal, wouldn’t you say? Especially after yesterday’s charade.” 

“Perhaps he found in himself his sense of duty to the Maker.” Cullen said, not really buying his own lies. Dorian obviously didn’t either. 

“A couple of matches this afternoon, Commander?” Dorian said when Cullen passed him by the door. And Cullen recognizes that tone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yes. And I always believe that.” 

-

When Cullen came back, he found Trevelyan already sat at his table, clothes hastily thrown on his body, hair still a mess. A delicious mess with how his eyes seemed to be squinting, like he was trying to be awake. 

Cullen mentally kicked himself for thinking like that. He shook his head lightly and put the small lunch he managed to gather on the table. He could feel Trevelyan watching his every movements, even long after he had sat himself on the new chair that Trevelyan must have moved it in after he left. 

Cullen averted his gaze, anywhere but Trevelyan, as if if he wasn’t looking at him, the man wouldn’t be exist at all. Lunch went on in silence, but Trevelyan never once touched his food and Cullen could hardly taste anything with how tense he was. 

He felt naked under Trevelyan’s eyes. This man that now knew his secrets, maybe more. This man that brought such a strong sense of familiarity so out of the blue but Cullen could never figure out why. 

Trevelyan didn’t touch his food at all, when Cullen finished and went dealing with the reports, the young Teyrn left the room without a word. And Cullen felt a little... downhearted. 

Fists curled back, he tried to will himself to work. He should be glad, Trevelyan didn’t do what Cullen had assumed that he would do. But for some reason, Trevelyan treating him like he wasn’t there made him felt lonely all of a sudden. Lost even. 

Hours went by before Cullen knew it. When he tried to stand up, he realized the terrible state his back was in, took him a few minutes to finally be able to stand straight. 

The sun had already set but Trevelyan still hadn’t comeback since. Not even his servants moving his stuffs in like the man had said previously. Cullen stared at the extra chair in the room and sighed, rubbing his strained eyes. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. 

Still, Cullen liked to keep to his plan. Made him feel less lost in some way. 

He found Leliana in her ‘office’, surrounded by her crows. She seemed to be relaxing, a rare moment of the spymaster. With tea in her hand, she looked at him as if she had been waiting for him. Perhaps she was. 

“I heard you overslept this morning.” She opened and Cullen took the cue to sit down in front of her. “Was-” Cullen coughed, stopping her next words. He could feel his face heating up as the cold wind outside blew through from the window. 

“No.” He answered, than repeated it again. “He-“ Cullen stopped for a few moment, thinking of how to tell her about Trevelyan. But at the same time, wonder if he should. 

“Did you meet him during your time at Kinloch Hold?” Leliana always used that casual tone when she mentioned Cullen’s source of nightmare. And Cullen was glad for that. Often, the emotions laced in people’s voice were too much for him to handle. 

“He was there?” 

“You don’t know?” Leliana raised an eyebrow, indicated her curiosity. “How come? The report said he was there at the same time as you until he returned to Orlais right before the Blight.” 

Cullen rested his forehead on his fingers, raking his mind for a passing moment, a small mention of a certain Henry Trevelyan. “Did he use a different name then?” 

“No. He spent half a year there and if my reports are correct.” And they always were. “Then he had never hidden his identity in his time there.”

“How-“ Cullen swallowed, suddenly felt like his memory were like a painting missing half of its lines and nothing made sense. “He said he knew me, that I knew him.” And the look on Trevelyan’s face when Cullen had said he didn’t know him. Lonely, sadness, sorrow. 

Leliana regarded him for a moment, the tea no longer blowing smoke in her hand but she paid it no mind. “It’s just a hunch, but perhaps Solas can help.” 

Cullen envied her with that cup of tea. He would like to have something for his hands to do to. 

“Solas?” Cullen had always wanted to talk to the elf. He heard others mentioned about him walking in old memories of ruins and great battlefields. To be sit down and ask Solas about all of that would be a privilege. But he never got the courage to. Unlike Dorian, Solas never approached him. “What do you mean?”

“Is that why you came here looking for me, Cullen? To know who Teyrn Trevelyan really is?” When Cullen stared at her in bewilderment, the Sister smirked and put down her porcelain cup. “You are an open book Commander, and I’m trained to know what others really want.” She furrowed her brows at that. “But with an excellent player of the game the Teyrn is, it’s hard for me to catch anything concrete. But base on your well being here today,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and sighed at the mention of it but then again was glad for her casual tone. “I can see there is something going on here. And if everything seemed to point on you knowing him when you claim you don’t then perhaps it’s because of what happened to you at Kinloch Hold.” 

Silence ensued for a few moment before Leliana spoke again. “Nobody can be the same after that.”

Nobody could, indeed. Cullen suddenly aware of the scars behind his back. But he woke up this morning to find his wounds had been properly taken care off, he could no longer feel the itch or the pain from it. And surprisingly, he was okay with not feeling it. 

-

When Cullen came back, he found Trevelyan sitting under the hole in the roof, the putrid smell of cheap alcohol down the tavern filled the air around him but aside from that, he seemed so serene sitting there, with the wind softly caress his hair. Cullen suddenly didn’t know what to do in his own quarters, like every parts of him were irrelevant and unnecessary. 

Trevelyan finally looked up at him and Cullen noticed how disheveled the man look. And his heart jumped suddenly, to sudden for him to grab a whole of his cloak. He flushed and bent down to pick it up again. 

Trevelyan blinked once, clearing away the mist in his eyes before standing up, hurriedly reaching out to pull the blond into his arms, as if he was scared that if he weren’t fast enough, Cullen would dissipate. A small smile graced his face when the Commander let him. 

Cullen heard the man breathed in deep, taking his scent in and he heard a quiet sob. “I’m home. Sorry for being so late.” 

Cullen’s heart quenched tight, too tight he had trouble breathing. He slowly patted on the other’s man broad back, softly the way his mother sometime did. “Welcome home.” 

“It’s alright,” Trevelyan said when Cullen got him to bed, then man stared straight at his eyes, despite the haziness in them, he didn’t seem to have difficulty focusing on Cullen. “You should be forgetting about me.” His voice died down and Cullen had to get closer to catch the last word. “Elise is a good girl.” 

And just like that, he closed his eyes and stopped talking. Just like that, he suddenly, quietly, fell asleep. 

-

“I’m not absolutely clear of what you are asking of me here, Commander.” Solas said, his elbows rested on his armrests, papers strewed across his table, dust still clung to their corner but they were all well kept. “And you must have misunderstood my abilities. I can’t walk into your mind and access your memories like picking up a book from the bookshelf.” 

Cullen sighed, rubbing his temper. In truth, he didn’t quite understand how to approach Solas on what he wanted. And he had been terrified at the notion that Solas could just casually walk into someone mind and pulled information out of it. Still...

“We can, however, travel to Kinloch Hold. I believe the Inquisitor is about to go out again to go look for the artifacts, I’ll be accompanied her per usual. You should ask to join.” Solas offered. 

“I can’t,” Cullen shook his head, “There are works here that need to be done. But thank you for the offer.” Part of the true. Another part was that he didn’t know what he would come back to haunt him once he there. 

“It’s of no trouble. My apologies for not being able to help you.” Solas nodded and that was the end of their conversation. 

Cullen left the main hall with a heavy sigh, disappointment coursed through him. Maybe after the Inquisition...

It soon went to the back of his head when the promised troops arrived. Works once again became too much, but Cullen always found his comfort in them. It made him forget about the lyrium, about his need for punishing himself. And now it helped him not too focusing on Trevelyan. He still did, just that works took the majority of his time. 

Trevelyan was busying too, he still had matters from Kirkwall and Otswick that needed his attention. The only time they met was for dinner that should be count as a late night meal. Trevelyan didn’t speak to him unless it was necessary regarding his troops. Never once mentioned what he said those nights. Maybe he had forgotten his words the night he was intoxicated. 

Half a month went by quick enough and when Cullen walked to his weekly date with Dorian, he noticed the bushes of rose had bloomed. White snow decorated the beautiful red. 

“How did you manage that?” He had thought they wouldn’t survive the cold winter here let alone blooming like that. 

Dorian stood next to him, proudly smirked with his arms crossed over his chest. “Magic, Commander.” 

Cullen looked at the flowers with awe. It had been so long, so many things had happened that he had forgotten how beautiful and amazing magic could be. He softly touched one of the pedal, feeling the subtle veins of life cursing through it and smiled to himself. 

“Tell me,” Dorian spoke up, picking at a invisible dusts on his cuff. “Did I miss anything while I was away?” 

Cullen shrugged and pointedly looked at the Tevinter mage, “You really want me to bore you with work?”

“Ah, so you finally admitted they are boring.” Cullen sighed at the smugness in Dorian’s tone. “You remind me too much of my father, dear Commander. Always sighing disapprovingly at me.” Dorian teased and watched the way Cullen looked horrified and hurriedly apologized with amusement. “I think we left it on good note. As good as it could be anyway.” 

“The Inquisitor’s work?” Cullen asked, smiling at the thought of Elise. Always so amazing like that. 

“Undoubtedly.” Dorian agreed with him, smiling softly to himself. “She is a good girl.” 

“Yeah...” Cullen looked up at the sky when a snow touched his cheek. The ceiling still hadn’t been fixed, but Cullen wasn’t exactly complaining. Trevelyan was always like a furnace next to him. “There is a reason why she is the Inquisitor.”

Dorian chuckled. “Aside from terrible luck and bad timing?” 

-

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Trevelyan said that night, lying on his side of the bed, eyes already closed. 

“Oh?” Cullen answered, suddenly too tired to open his mouth for a proper answer. The rim of his eyes foolishly burned when the arm around his waist retreated. 

In the end, nothing happened. 

Trevelyan didn’t look back when he rode away. Strong posture soon blended into one with the snow and Cullen was hit with a sense of familiarity. Like he had seen that back leaving him before. Lonely shouldn’t be what he was feeling. 

Works came again when Josephine finally received a letter from the Grand Duke. And to celebrate, Elise brought back a dragon’s head. Cullen thought he was going crazy with how often the Inquisitor threw herself at dangers like that. But he knew she had been taking a lot of lessons with Vivienne, Solas and Dorian. She was a brilliant mage before and now he felt like she was shining brighter with each moment. 

He wrote to Aveline a few days after Trevelyan left. The Guard Captain had a similar reaction to his sister. Scolding him for his lack of information. But overall he could feel their cares for him and that warmed him up a bit. 

Aveline also mentioned Trevelyan, about his works in Kirkwall and expressed her relief when she received news that he was coming back. Reading there, Cullen unconsciously looked at the chest at the foot of his bed. 

Putting down the letter, Cullen moved in front of the chest, knowing when he opened it, he could find that blue royal robe, could chase what was left of Trevelyan’s scent. 

The fabric was soft and smooth against his skin, familiar after all the nights he had spent hugging it. 

He lied back on the bed, arms wrapped tight around the robe. Sleeping was so hard now without the warmth of the other man. He had hoped that Trevelyan would stop helping him whenever he had a nightmare for fear that he would owe the other man too much and for fear that he would growth accustomed to it. Trevelyan wouldn’t stay with him forever. 

But Cullen had often wondered, what if he had remembered? Would he be less lonely and lost? 

“Henry...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen doesn’t remember. He just knows.

Leliana obviously knew about his conversation with Solas. Nothing happened in Skyhold without her knowing after all. 

“Just go, Cullen.” Leliana had stood at his door, arms crossed and looked at him with eyes that said she wouldn’t buy his bullshit. “Cassandra can handle whatever is left with ease anyway and you could take her place by the Inquisitor’s side.”

He obviously couldn’t find a way out here. And he knew that the mystery of Trevelyan had begun to irked his mind again when work had been slowly decreasing. He should have worked slower to save them up for time like this. 

-

“Huh..” Dorian raised his eyebrow at him as Cullen approached with a bag swung across his back with his sword and shield. “Did Cassandra suddenly look like our Commander? Was there something in the drink last night?” He mused out loud at Elise and the girl hid her laugh behind her hand. The not glowing one. 

Solas regarded him then nodded. “You have reconsidered my offer then.” 

“I have.” Because he couldn’t find another excuse for Leliana more likely. 

-

The journey was long, but it didn’t feel like it. The three mages made great companies and he could easily imagine Cassandra rolling her eyes at every jokes the Tevinter and the Inquisitor made. But Elise looked so in her element here. And she had a way of caressing her staff like it was her friend, rubbing her thumb on it after a battle, like she was calming it down. 

Cullen was reminded of how Trevelyan used to slowly rub circles on his back after his nightmares woke him up. Trevelyan always awoke before him, cooing him with soft touches. They never kissed again after that night, Cullen wouldn’t say he missed it. That would be stupid. And he always casted it to Trevelyan having the taste of Lyrium on the tip of his tongue that made him crave for a kiss. 

Not the way Trevelyan held him. Familiar and safe. 

Been a long while since he had felt safe. There was always something, some demons lurking in dark corners ready to strike at him when he let his guards down. 

But he never felt that way with Trevelyan lying next to him. Safe, like he had found a place he could rest his back. 

-

“It’s okay.” Elise told him one day, smiling with an understanding look in her eyes. “Dorian told me so I understand now.” She had put her hand on his shoulder, like a friend. Cullen had been puzzled at to what had just happened. After awhile, the Inquisitor finally told him that she ‘understood’ he wasn’t interested in woman. 

Thanks to Dorian, no doubt. 

“I have never told her that!” Dorian protested with an amused grin, fighting back the laugh no doubt. “I swear on my beautiful existence! That was all on our Inquisitor brilliant deduction ability.” 

Lying to the Inquisitor left an itch in him, but he stopped himself steps away from her tent. Better this way, perhaps. It wasn’t like he would get in any sort of relationship. Too many broken shards for that. 

Trevelyan nagged at the back of his mind again. But Cullen pushed it back, blended it in with the headache that had accompanied him since Skyhold with little rest. 

Solas had noticed it, handed him a flask of something yellow. ‘To ease your pain.’ But it still rested untouched in his luggage. He needed it to stay lucid. And to some extent, to punish himself. 

Trevelyan had taken the cat with him when he left. He had instead found a box of small Orlesian’s cake, all kind of flavors, under his bed. 

Josephine would have been thrilled to have them. But he had selfishly kept it to himself. ‘The only good thing about Orlesian.’ He had jokingly said to himself. Or someone he had thought was there. 

-

It was strange to be back here after so long. Was it ten? More than ten? Too long and not long enough. Cullen stepped slowly on the soil, taking his time. He could see the tower from where he stood. Still tall and lonely in the middle of the lake. No windows. Just like a prison. Cullen never thought of that, but now he stood there, after so many things... It felt different. 

He noticed a scorched mark on the large stone at the end of the road, a few more miles to the old tavern. He knew that mark. He has been there when it had happened after all. Bandits. Or so he has been told. But Cullen knew they weren’t bandits. They hadn’t moved like one, and they hadn’t been practically interested in any of Cullen’s possessions. Not liked he had had anything, being a Templar. Assassins? Unlikely, because they hadn’t dared to hurt... someone. 

Cullen furrowed his brows. Searching for answers on that rock. Who was that someone? His memory felt like a torn book, full of stories but so many papers had been torn, it didn’t make any sense. But Cullen knew where to connect the dots, perhaps. Has it been Trevelyan? 

He felt like he was going crazy when he unconsciously looked down at his right arm and heard his heart gave a loud thump. 

“Don’t worry.” Solas said behind him, calming his nerves. “I’m here to guide you.” 

Cullen turned to look at Solas, the elf was standing in familiar stone walls and candle lights. Correction, they were. 

“Or rather, I’m here to follow you where you might lead us?” Solas said again, looking around with curiosity. “Where are we?” 

“My quarters.” Cullen answered, running his finger through the head of his bed. He still remembered which one it was. And he wondered, if he opened the chest at the foot of his bed, would he find his favorite shirt? 

Why was it his favorite again?

“Focus, Commander. You are thinking too much.” Solas told him, hand on his shoulder as if to slow him down. Has he been running? 

Cullen felt sweat broke out of him, his lungs working fast to get enough air inside his body, and that familiar ache in his muscles that felt so good. Like he had been running miles and miles. He hadn’t had that chance in Skyhold. And sometime he felt like the walls were going to suffocate him. So much that he spent hours on the ground, trying to act like he didn’t just got scared by his walls to the point of running away. 

Solas must have realized how fucked up his mind was already, judging from the way he looked at him. Cullen wasn’t a great player at the Game like Leliana or Josephine. He couldn’t read people with just a subtle movement of their body. No. But he could realize what that person was looking at him with. 

A useful skill to lie better, hide better, to act more normal and more acceptable. 

Solas didn’t say anything or perhaps he had wanted to but Cullen’s eyes had begged him enough to just ignore this. They barely knew each others after all. This man’s demons weren’t the business of the other man and vice versa. 

Cullen looked around. He was standing on the highest cliff that overlooked Kinloch Hold. He must have ran up here to be this exhausted and ...excited?

Cullen couldn’t suppress a gasp when he turned his head again and face Henry. But no sound ever escaped from his mouth. He just stood there, unable to control his body. Just the wind softly blew next to his ears. And Henry’s warm, rough palm pressed on his cheek. 

Cullen felt his lips tingling, a strange sensation but was filling his chest with so much joy and happiness, anxiety and doubt. So much, he wanted to scream on top of his lungs to release all. But he just stood there quietly and bathed in the love that filled Henry’s eyes. 

And it felt so real. Like he had poured everything of him to hold onto this, to keep it clear and vivid and utterly perfect. 

Because he just couldn’t let it go. 

“Cullen.” Henry whispered. 

“Cullen.” The demon whispered. Cullen widened his eyes as he realized that he was thrusted back inside the cell. 

“We could leave if you want.” Solas said, hand on his shoulders to keep him steady. 

The demon made it round on him, smiling sensually as it touched itself. Long fingers running on sickly colored skin. “My dear Cullen.” 

“Surana. Surana. Surana.” He could hear himself repeating her name like a broken mantra. 

His mother used to say that he was a very clever boy. Smart, yes. But he was clever too. He never understood the difference. Not until he was forced to kneel in front of the demon. And he fooled it. He tricked it. 

That was why he hadn’t broken yet when his comrades, his friends felt to the demons’ clutches. That was why he had held on until the Warden arrived. 

The demon was using the wrong face. He wanted to laugh at his victory. A bitter one. Losing parts of yourself to achieve it. What was the point? He was still a useless coward when he got out. Despicable. 

He should have died there. 

“You need to wake up, Commander!” Solas’ voice was so clear in the hazard state of his mind. Like hitting a bell and felt it rang through your body. 

He woke up. 

“It’s okay. You handled it better than most of people.” Solas said slowly, patting his back as Cullen hugged the bucket, letting out everything in his stomach. 

The bile tasted in his mouth made him wished he would never have to open his mouth. But he needed to anyway. “Thank you...” 

Solas just nodded in return and pulled out another flask of the yellow liquid. “For your headache if it lasted longer than half an hour. But it should disperse soon with how well you have been taking it.” Solas didn’t mention what happened. What he saw in Cullen’s dreams and memories here anyway. 

“This place still feels like a maze after everything.” Cullen chuckled, remembering how lost he had been the first time he had been here, too shy to ask anyone for direction. If it hadn’t been for a rat, out looking for food, he wouldn’t have been able to find his way back. 

Maybe his head hadn’t been normal yet, but he had thought, that voice hadn’t sounded like Solas. 

“What happened?” And it wasn’t. Cullen whipped his head up, his eyes widen when he saw Henry Trevelyan standing outside his tent, looking out toward Kinloch Hold. 

Solas looked between the two of them, than pushed himself up, “I’ll leave you two to it.” Said he as the elf walked out of the tent. Leaving a rather battered Henry, old tunics, wild hair, dirt on his skin, and a rather sick Cullen. 

Silence stretched on. Until Henry turned his face and Cullen furrowed his brows. Henry looked... wrong. “Are you... okay?” He asked, trailing the green lines so clearly on Henry’s pale skin. 

The man just shrugged. “Just a small price for what I was offered.” That could mean various things. But Henry didn’t elaborate. “I received words from your Spymaster that you are here. Why?” Cullen doubted so. 

“I wanted to know...” Cullen stopped, searching for the correct word. “To understand... us.” He settled on us. There had been an ‘us’. Cullen’s heart jump in bittersweet at that word. An ‘us’ that he had had to sacrifice for his own sanity. But was he sane? 

Henry closed his eyes. He looked older and so worn out. Gone was the charismatic man, now he just looked tired.   
When he opened his eyes again, it was like he had come to term with something. And Cullen wished he could read the man in front of him. 

He was about to say something, his lips moving and everything felt like slow motion to Cullen at that moment. Tension coiled in the pit of his stomach. Fear of rejection, of a bad ending. Really, when had it been a different result. 

A leap of faith, the thought popped in his mind and Cullen desperately grabbed at it as he blurted out. “Show me!” Too fast, too high pitched, so uncharacteristic for him but Cullen could hardly care. If Henry floated away now, he would be lost forever. Not thing could last forever and he knew one day, his position as the Commander of the Inquisition would end. And he would be too weak, too tired to do anything. So Cullen was grasping at the last straw of hope here. Selfishly trying to salvage his future. “Please, stay here and show me. I want to remember. Even if I can’t, I want to know.” He swallowed. To know how much he had loved Henry, how much had Henry loved him. And how? How did he win this man over? How did this enigmatic man in front of him knock down his walls, albeit thin at the time, find his way through every big things in Cullen’s heart (his faith, his sense of duty, his oh so young eagerness - but perhaps Cullen had been a romantic sap back then, wishing to find the love of his life someday.) 

Henry sighed, liked when he told his mother about his dream, his wishes. The sigh his mother gave, not wanting her son to go so far away. But she wouldn’t never denied his wishes. Even if they were absurd. Even when others mocked him for his dreams. 

Cullen sat there waiting, falling, trying to hold onto the hope of something down there to catch him before he touched ground. 

Nothing was down there. 

Henry turned away, his posture suddenly so distance, like a stranger on the road. And he could heard his own mind screaming ‘no’, ‘please don’t’. 

“...a waste of time.” That was what Henry labeled everything about Cullen and him. A waste of time, worthy of nothing. Absolutely, utterly, painfully nothing. 

He climbed too high. 

“...Oh.” Was the intelligent response he managed. Maker but that fall hurt. And he felt that need again, the desire for pain, for punishment for his stupidity. “...Oh.” He couldn’t seem to stop. “Right. Sorry.” His fingers turned numb, the numbness running through his arms, reaching his shoulders then spread throughout his body. Sadness. So numb. 

Silence stretched on as Cullen tried to compose himself. He tried, Maker, he tried. But that really, really hurt. He lied back down on the sweat soaked mattress, turning his back so his face was facing the wall. So he could pretend that nobody was there. So quiet that he heard a heavy suck of breath that didn’t come from him. 

Once again, Henry left him. But this time, Cullen couldn’t bare to watch him go.

**Author's Note:**

> I twisted and turned this chapter a lot throughout the whole process and I’m honestly surprised with how it turned out.  
> That say, there would be a lot of going back and editing to put in more details or subplots. 
> 
> I will be sure to notify you guys if that happens. 
> 
> Happy reading. Xx


End file.
